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Prepping for the 3rd Act

 Getting older is a weird phenomenon, y'all.  On some issues I get more and more irritable and other things I forget almost as soon as they happen. I care less and less about politics because....well....does any of it matter anymore?  I am more offended by media coverage of war because.....well.....it's obvious there is an agenda in telling me which side I should be on.  

And every time I see any sort of coverage showing women and children in Israel, Gaza, Ukraine and so on, all I can hear in my head is Sting's great 80's song Russians.  Funny how the Cold War has revitalized itself.  

I don't argue about politics anymore.....not online or in person. I care about issues (some very deeply) but I'm not arguing or advocating. I know that might offend some, but I suppose I have passed it on to the youngers. It's time for the next generation to take up the mantle. 

But I do find myself commenting on random stranger's posts giving them encouragement and hoped for peace.  For some reason, I want the lonely and hurt of the world to feel cared for.....I want them to feel less alone.  Maybe I've turned into J Mascis.  (And btw, call me, you delicious Silver Fox, you!)

And that's another funny thing.....since I've basically given up on dating, my mind feels clearer.  I don't feel like I'm chasing something or trying to make some kind of magic happen.  And that's perfect for me.  I've liked boys all my life.  My earliest crush was probably around age 10 or 11, and boys have flooded my brain ever since.  These days men are more of a lovely distraction at best or a squirrelly nuisance at worst.  They don't control my life, my money or my future.  And as my friend Martha would say "that's a good thing".  And as more of my grown girlfriends would say "I ain't mad at it".

These days, I kinda like being seen as the wise older lady, the cool big sister, and the kindly next-door neighbor.  I'll babysit your toddler, water your plants while you're away and pet your dogs whenever they're outside.....I don't even care if they pooh on my lawn.  It's no big deal.  It's just pooh after all.

Have I mellowed?  

I think I have.

Here's a succinct explanation of what this time period has come to be called:




As I enter this third act and the unexpected freedom it has given me, the restraints that once kept me brittle and on constant edge are gone.  I sleep like a rock.  I sit and think quietly.  I embrace who I am and what I've experienced with some regret, but with no shame.  And believe me, there is a difference.

But there are some things that still bug me.  I hate it when people talk over me or interrupt me.  I hate it when people are late.  I hate having to check out my own groceries while a store employee watches me.  I hate traffic jams.  But all of these things are more annoyances and aggravations than any thing worth keeping me up at night.

I don't like it when folks push their issues onto me or direct their anger at me when I don't deserve it.  I don't like it (and try not to ever) let my kid down.  I don't like it when my relationships are one-sided.  These are bigger concerns that couldn't be called nuisances.  These issues are about feelings and self-esteem, and oddly, these things still matter to me.  My heart doesn't feel as fragile as it once was, but it is still beating.

I'm journaling more, blogging sometimes and commenting every now and then.  I feel the need to leave my mark on this world all of a sudden.  I know I won't be remembered in any sort of grand or historic way, but I don't want to be altogether forgotten either.  I don't want anyone who loved me or knew me well to guess about what I thought.  I want them to say with vehemence, "that's exactly what Becky would have done!"

Not quite sure what is bringing on all the introspection.  Maybe it's Matt Perry's death.  Maybe it's the quick approach of age 50.  Maybe it's Trump's resurgence, the war in Israel, my son living away from home or all the babies being born to the young people in my office.  I'm not sure.  But I think I like the softer side of me.  She's warmer.  More patient.  More understanding.  And way less intent to have the final word.  

I think, maybe, she has finally learned something.  

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